


Glory and Gore

by generalatomicsgalleria (charmingotter)



Series: Harper Black [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 05:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11396649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmingotter/pseuds/generalatomicsgalleria
Summary: Harper Black is a bounty hunter with a magical knack for tracking people and a missing sister. More often than not she's a bit down on her luck, but she manages. Until, that is, she bites off a little more than she can chew one night. When Tracer finds her half frozen to death and unconscious on the street she, or rather Overwatch, takes her in...





	Glory and Gore

The bunker wasn't exactly the most accommodating, but it had the essentials- a kitchen, beds, a lab, a makeshift medbay, and a couple office spaces. Most importantly, at least to Lena, was their teeny tiny rec room. It didn't have anything more than a faded, lumpy couch and an old grainy telly, but Lena loved it. It was comfortable and familiar. Genji liked to watch bad films with her and prop his feet up in her lap. 

Sometimes Zenyatta, Reinhardt, Mei, or Dr. Ziegler joined them. Winston was always too busy but passed through to talk to them occasionally. No matter who she ended up hanging out with though she felt most at home then. It felt right. Like that old lumpy couch sitting next to Dr. Ziegler with Genji’s legs thrown haphazardly across her lap watching practically ancient James Bond films was where she belonged in the universe exactly. 

“Bond. James Bond,” Genji recited lines in sync with the movie. They had all seen it so many times that they all knew everything that was going to happen. They watched anyway. It wasn't like they had anything else to do. 

“Is Mei gonna bake a cake?” Lena whispered to Dr. Ziegler, never taking her eyes off the movie. 

“I don't know,” she whispered back. “When I tried to help she pushed me out of the kitchen.”

“She did the same to us,” Genji said, glancing over at him. “Wouldn't even tell us what she was cooking.” He turned his attention back to the screen, reciting lines with the actors again. 

Dr. Ziegler jumped a little at the action that was happening on screen. “I still do not see why she had to go to all this trouble just for me.” She shook her head. 

Mei had found out about Dr. Ziegler's anniversary of joining Overwatch and insisted on cooking everyone a good meal to celebrate the occasion. “It's because she wanted to do something nice for you.”

No sooner had she said that did someone flick the light on and caused all three of them to flinch from the sudden brightness. It was Mei. She had flour on her adorably pudgy face and what appeared to be some sort of mustard smeared on the edge of her glasses. Her apron was someone less of a mess than her face though. 

“Tracer,” Mei stopped, obviously embarrassed at her mistake. “Sorry, sorry,” she apologized, blushing deeply. “Lena,” she corrected herself, using Lena’s real name like she had asked her to. “Would you run out and get a couple of things for me, please?”

* * *

* * *

In the vacant streets of London, the skyscrapers offered little protection from the harsh wind that whipped at her uncovered face, leaving it frozen. Harper pulled her scarf up stiffly, her fingers just as cold as her face. She hadn’t meant to do this tonight, but when such a grand opportunity presented itself, how could she have resisted? The trail was so fresh she could taste it in the back of her mouth, and though the gritty, ashiness of this particular soul was vile, she had encountered worse before. The bright, orange, smoky trail wobbled through the street at a rather jagged pace, it must have been his leg- or rather, the lack thereof. From what she had heard the wild man had replaced it himself with what was little better than an actual peg leg. 

This, this opportune position she had found herself in, felt too easy. They were criminals, and a bit crazy, but they certainly weren’t stupid. And where was the big one anyway? She stared at the single soul trail critically, he was supposed to be Mr. Fawkes’ bodyguard. Some bodyguard if he wasn't sticking to the man like glue. 

Harper looked back over her shoulder suspiciously, a sudden shiver going through her. There was nothing though. Not a soul in sight. Well, except an empty red telephone booth. Past that an old church with a weeping angel statue in its front yard. A rusted iron fence surrounded it. All around her were empty office buildings though. None of them should have been occupied though. At least not until Monday. 

Satisfied that she was alone, Harper turned her attention back to the trail. Her powers were weak tonight and the trail was fading fast, she needed to move quicker. 

She started forward only to stop again almost instantly when a deep voice sounded from the alley to her right, “Over here.” 

Harper barely has time to look around to see the man before a big, meaty hand grabbed her by the throat and slung her against the phone booth. She winced hearing the sharp cracking sound of glass breaking. 

“Mr. Rutledge,” Harper wheezed, hands pulling at the fingers curled around her windpipe, she knew it was really useless though. “Exactly the man I was looking for.” 

Mr. Rutledge had made no further move to harm her though, but he hadn't let her go either. She could see why so many people were frightened of the man, she reflected, suddenly conscious of her racing pulse. He was a big man. Big enough that he had pinned by the throat with one hand with minimal effort. She'd hate to see what he could do when he was trying. Not to mention his mask. It would have been unsettling under the best of circumstances, like this, so up close and personal she could see even the stitching, that glassy, blank expression staring down at her, and with only the sound of his breathing being filtered through it to cut through the silence of the night- it was chilling even she had to admit.

“What’re you waiting on?” She finally hissed up at him. 

“Me!” the answer came from around the corner and out staggered the most cheerful lunatic she had ever seen. He was exactly as she had imagined him to be. A little weird, a little crazed, desperately in need of a bath. “And who are you?” He questioned, stepping as close as possible and poking her in the chest. She couldn't help but jump when he did, though the vice at her throat kept her from jumping far. 

It was then, seeing him, that his soul trail became clear to her. The ‘ash’ she had tasted earlier was probably closer to soot and the grittiness had come from whatever powders he used for explosives. She had known before that he was an explosives expert, but she hadn't realized how deeply the skill had embedded itself into his person. 

“Just a stranger in the night, Mr. Fawkes,” she told him with a tight, innocent smile. This wasn't exactly how she had planned on this going. 

He flashed a smile at her, gold tooth glinting. “Right, right,” he nodded, giving an awkward little shrug. “Well-”

“She's a bounty hunter,” Rutledge interrupted him, speaking for the first time since he had caught her. “The one from the paper.”

Oh, hell. Harper mentally kicked herself. That was the last time she ran ads, slow business be damned. 

Fawkes frowned. “Who’d be looking for us?” The bigger man just stared at him, waiting for him to put the pieces together. “Ohhh,” realization seemed to dawn on him. “Coppers had to bring in hired help.” Fawkes laughed maniacally. “Bunch a dipsticks.” 

While Harper didn't disagree with that last one, they were wrong about her. She just needed the money from their bounty. Even after running the ad. The first time she’d heard of these two was a few days ago on the news...Then of course of the reward for bringing them in. And admittedly, after having to sell her car to make rent, well, it hadn't really had much choice but to go after them. Besides, she had never been able to resist a good hunt. 

After his laughter died down, Fawkes looked back at her. “Whatta we do with her then, Roadie?”

Rutledge grunted, fingers tightening around her throat. “Remember the guard?”

Fawkes giggled. Giggled in a way that made Harper afraid to know what happened to the guard. “I like the way you think,” he said, then nodded at a point past her that she couldn't see. “The fence, ya think?”

The big man grunted in acknowledgment and promptly released his grip on her. No sooner had he done this that he had a gun to her head. “Walk,” he told her. After a second he added, “Slowly. Run and I shoot.”

Harper sighed. “Alright.” Not like she had much of a choice, but she couldn't help but consider it, her eyes flicking down the street hopefully. “Where am I going?” She asked. 

Fawkes slung a filthy arm around her and turned her so their backs were to Rutledge. He pointed across the street to the church. “The gate,” he told Harper, then shoved her forward. 

Harper cast one last withering glare back at the two of them before shaking her head and starting her march forward. Their footsteps were an odd couple behind her- the strangely uneven step, thunk, step, thunk of Mr. Fawkes and the slower, much heavier even steps of Mr. Rutledge. The walk over was a short one, but she couldn't help but feel it had taken forever to get across the street to the church. If she had gone too slow neither of her captors had deigned as to tell her so though. She turned back to face them when she was at the gate, the weeping angel feeling like a bad omen behind her. “Now what?”

Fawkes stepped forward, picking a pair of handcuffs out of his pockets grinning. And it was with that grin that her calm composure suddenly left her. 

“No,” she snapped, slapping the cuffs from his hand. They landed on the ground with a clatter. Rutledge pressed the barrel of his gun to her temple. Fawkes had grabbed her by the front of her coat, as though if whether his intention was to hit her or to keep her from fleeing she wasn't sure. “No handcuffs,” she hissed at them, drawing away from the men as best she could, her back pressing against the hard iron gate. 

“Cuffs or a bullet,” Rutledge informed her gruffly. 

Fawkes let go of her and stooped to pick up the handcuffs. He held them in front of her face dauntingly. “Don't matter none to us,” he told her rather matter of fact like. “Just thought you might prefer these old things to gettin’ offed.”

Harper stared at the handcuffs defeatedly. Neither option was a pleasant thought, but it was the lesser of two evils she supposed. “Fine,” she finally spat after a long moment, pushing her left wrist out to him. 

He smiled putting the cuff on her, obviously pleased. “And,” he said, hooking the other cuff to the gate, “now, you stay here.” He nodded confidently to her. 

“Right, of course.” Harper nodded in agreement with him, which he seemed to like, so she took the opportunity then to punch him in the gut as hard as she could and proceeded to give him a good swift kick right between the legs.

The moment of satisfaction of hearing the man's cries of pain was short-lived as Rutledge promptly pistol whipped her. Fortunately, the pain from that was as short-lived as the satisfaction considering how fast everything went dark on her. 

* * *

* * *

“You know this old dog still knows a few tricks,” Reinhardt’s laugh boomed down the empty street. 

Lena giggled. “You're not that old.” She smiled up at the old man. She shifted her grocery bags from one hand to the other, the bag of peanut butter was getting to be tiresome. At least their hideout wasn't too far away...And good thing Reinhardt had agreed to come with her to carry the groceries for her, otherwise she probably wouldn't have made it. 

Reinhardt chuckled, good-naturedly. “Ah, Lena, you are sweet, but we both know I am not as young as I used to be.”

She shrugged. “None of us are.” None of them had been who they used to be a long time ago, but all change wasn't bad. At least that was what she had to believe. She had to believe that though she was different now, she was better too. She was better for the pain she had endured. 

“I think-”

Something caught her eye to her left. It looked like someone had fallen in the snow. “Hold that thought,” Lena couldn't help but interrupt. Oh, please, let me be wrong, she thought dropping her bags and dashing over to the woman. Her heart dropped when she saw the blood dripping down the woman's dark face. It was as she feared.The woman was hurt. 

“Hey,” she said, squatting down and shaking her shoulder. “Hey.” She shook a bit harder, feeling a bit desperate as she did. “You have to wake up, love.” 

Reinhardt had come up behind her now. “What is-” he broke off using seeing the woman on the ground. “Is she breathing?” He asked dropping his bags as well, coming closer. 

Lena nodded, brushing back the woman's dark hair to check her pulse too. “Her heartbeat’s slow.” She was no doctor that was for sure, but Lena knew that wasn't good. “We've got to get her to Dr. Ziegler.” Reinhardt nodded solemnly and bent to pick her up. “Wait.” She stopped him, noticing for the first time the handcuffs that shackled her to the fence she was half leaning against. “Can you break that?” She asked pointing to the chain that connected the two cuffs. 

“Of course,” Reinhardt said and did just that- pulling the short chain until it popped apart. “We need to hurry.” He stood up with the woman, cradling her carefully in his arms. 

“Right,” Lena agreed grabbing what few bags she could for Mei and sprinted on ahead of him to prepare Dr. Ziegler of her new patient before Reinhardt arrived. 

* * *

* * *

“Do you think she’ll be okay, Doc?” Lena asked, hovering right behind her as she pushed down the plunger of the last syringe. Angela watched the yellow glow of the biotics flow through the woman's veins, looking every bit the magic they acted like. 

Angela nodded. “She will be just fine I think.” It really hadn't been too bad. Not by her standards anyway. Only a head wound and hypothermia. After all that she had seen, anything that didn't involve her reattaching a limb or restarting someone's heart felt like a blessing. 

Angela put the back of her hand to the woman's dark cheek. Her skin was warming up- a good sign. Picking up the rag out of the warm water she had prepared when Lena had told her of the patient's condition Angela began gently cleaning the blood from her already healing head wound. 

Her eyes couldn't help but flick down to the handcuff still attached to the woman's wrist. How had that happened? She couldn't help but wonder. How had any of this happened? She looked at the gash in her head again. Was she vigilantes like they were now? Or was she on the other end of the spectrum, a criminal?

“When will she wake?” Reinhardt asked, from where he sat on the far side of the room. He had squeezed his bulky form into one of the small chairs Winston had provided to her when she had moved into the office space and made it her medbay slash office. 

Angela dropped the bloody rag back into the water with a splash. “I don't know,” she answered, pressing the end of her stethoscope to the woman's chest. Thump-thump...thump-thump...thump-thump. Angela nodded. “Soon,” she corrected her previous answer. “Probably.” 

She hadn't expected the biotics to work that quickly, but everything sounded well enough. Better than she had expected actually. Angela bit her lip anxiously. Maybe she shouldn't have given her that third shot. One could heal too fast. She shook her head. For now- everything sounded good, as long as it stayed that way she wasn't going to worry about it. 

“You two should go eat dinner. I'll wait with our new friend,” Angela said with a tired sigh. She pulled over one of tiny chairs to the patient's bedside. She had been hoping to go eat dinner with the others, it would have been rude for the guest of honor to not to show up to her own dinner. Someone was going to have to stay with the patient and it only made sense that it should be her. 

Lena made a small noise of disapproval, her small hands darting out to stop her from sitting down. “Nonsense,” she said, pulling her away from the cot and towards the door. “I'll sit with her. After all, I found her out there; only makes sense she'd be my responsibility.” Lena smiled reassuringly at Angela, brown hair flopping down in front of her bright eyes. “Besides, you can't skip out on your own anniversary dinner.”

She was right, Angela knew. Mei had been so excited to do this for her once she heard the anniversary of her joining Overwatch was coming up. She couldn't ruin that. 

Reinhardt stood up with a small groan, rubbing his back. “Come now,” he said, walking over to them and gently taking Angela’s elbow in his large hand. “You can come back to check on them both after you have eaten.” 

Angela looked from her unconscious patient to Lena’s smiling expression. “Fine,” Angela finally caved reluctantly. “But! The second something doesn't seem right, you must come get me.”

Lena nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. Of course.” She held out her pinky. “Pinky promise even.”

Angela couldn't help but giggle. “That is not necessary, but thank you, Lena.” Nevertheless, she wrapped her pinky finger around the other woman’s with a shy grin. Somehow, the promise did make her feel a bit better about the situation despite its childishness. 

“Anytime, Doc,” Lena said, waving goodbye to them as Reinhardt pulled her out the door.

* * *

* * *

Lena sat down in the chair, daintily, on the edge; she didn't want to get too comfortable. After so much excitement she was especially knackered. If she sat back and got comfy Lena was sure she would fall asleep.

Her eyes went to the woman she was supposed to be watching over. She was pretty, Lena noted. Absolutely lovely in fact. Her hair was wavy and long and black. In her face too, it made Lena want to reach out and brush it back. Instead, her hand went to her own short hair instead, running her hand through the back so it would stick up the way she liked. 

She continued to study the mystery woman though. Her skin was a beautiful light brown and free of makeup except for her lipstick, which was the perfect shade of red- though now badly smudged.

It must have been matched with the scarf she had worn when they brought her in. Lena pulled it from the box on the floor next the cot that Dr. Ziegler had put her belongings in. She ran it through her fingers, enjoying the softness of it while comparing the two colors. 

The small box, that had previously held some of Dr. Ziegler's things, had little else in it. A soft, black leather jacket; pockets of which contained: some spare change, a pair of old sunglasses, and an empty bottle of ibuprofen. There was also a silver chain with two gold rings on it. 

Lena picked up the rings, staring at them. They were both dulled by age and scratched up a good deal. Were they wedding bands? Hers? Lena’s eyes flicked back to the unconscious woman. She didn't exactly look married...whatever that looked like. 

Dropping the rings back in the box with a shake of the head Lena sat back in the chair finally, only to realize she still had the scarf in her hands. She almost dropped it back into the box too, but her finger curled into the soft material protectively, her hand clasping it tightly in the open air. Maybe she could just hang on to it until the woman woke up? Feeling oddly attached to the beautiful accessory Lena sighed in defeat and gently setting it back in her lap. 

* * *

* * *

Harper woke unusually easy- more often than not she woke up suddenly and with an unpleasant jolt. Instead, her eyes opened slowly, blinking back and forth until her eyes adjusted to the light. She didn't know where she was. It wasn't home and it wasn't that cold dark street she had fallen on before. It certainly didn't look like a hospital either. Beyond that, she wasn't sure what the next option could be. 

Carefully, Harper brought her hand to her head, remembering what has happened. She frowned when she didn't feel what she expected to be there. Pressing a little harder she still found that there was no pain or even wound where Mr. Rutledge has hit her. 

Harper turned her head, trying to get a better sense of where she was. And saw a tiny woman curled up in a chair next to the bed...with Harper’s scarf clutched to her chest like someone might take it. Harper wasn't sure she could be that person. She really did like that scarf though….

Harper reached out to touch the woman. After a couple gentle nudges and the woman didn't stir, Harper shook her a little. “Hey,” she said quietly. “Hey, lady.”

“Oh,” the woman gasped suddenly, jumping away from Harper’s light touch. “Oh,” she said again, sitting up now, fully awake. “Hello.” Her smile was a bit lopsided and her hair was a mess, but she looked nothing if not friendly. 

“Hey.” Harper nodded, not sure if she could return the cheerful smile just yet. “Who are- Wait.” Harper frowned, realizing how familiar the woman seemed. “Are you...Are you Tracer? That pilot from Overwatch?” Harper stared at her. If she wasn't, she might as well have been her twin.

The woman blushed deeply, a bright pink rising to her cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm that pilot. It's just Lena these day though. Lena Oxton.”

Harper stared at her. Of all the people… What were the chances? She never thought she'd meet the girl her mother had always spoken so highly of. “Harper Black,” she introduced herself and stuck out her hand to shake like her father had always taught her to do. 

Lena shook it gently and with a soft smile. “Lovely. Nice to meet you, Miss Black.”

“Harper,” she corrected. “Just call me Harper.” The only people who called her ‘Miss Black’ were doctors and old people and Lena didn’t seem to be either. She looked younger than Harper actually, but that couldn’t be right. ‘Tracer’ had been at least in her early to mid-twenties seven years ago when Overwatch was still up and running. She couldn’t _still_ be in that age range?

“Harper.” Lena nodded. 

“Mind telling me where I am?” Harper took another glance around the room. It looked a bit like an office, but that couldn't be quite right since she was sitting on a cot and there were medical supplies sitting in boxes all around. 

Lena’s smile fell. “Well, I sort of can't tell you, but you're safe; I promise.” Harper wasn’t sure how she felt about that promise, but as far as she could tell she wasn’t in any immediate danger. After a moment Lena continued, “We found you unconscious out in the cold and you were barely breathing so we brought you back here to Dr. Ziegler. She said you had hypothermia.”

Dr. Ziegler? Now, where had she heard that name before? Maybe her father had worked with her at some point? Even racking her brain as best she could of long conversations she had had with her father produced nothing though. 

“I feel fine.” It was the truth. She probably felt better than she had before she had been sat out in the cold for several hours even. Which seemed truly strange, but she wasn’t going to complain. 

“And that's the brilliance of Dr. Ziegler. Lifesaver, she is.” 

“Where is she?” Harper wanted to meet this life-saving doctor. 

* * *

* * *

“I’d like to take this moment to thank Dr. Ziegler once again for rejoining us here at Overwatch,” Winston said, raising his glass in a toast. “We wouldn't know what to do without you.” 

Angela smiled, blushing slightly as the rest of their small group chimed in with their agreement. 

“Wouldn’t’ve last a day without you, doc, that's for sure!” Lena piped up, walking into the dining room with Angela’s previously unconscious patient not far behind. 

“Oh, Lena,” Angela sighed, getting up from her chair. “You should have come gotten me.” She plastered on her best smile as she got up to greet her patient. “Hello, I'm Dr. Ziegler. How are you feeling, dear?” 

“Fine, thanks to you I'm told.”

Angela smiled, genuinely happy to hear that. “Well, I wasn't the only one involved so I cannot claim all the credit, but yes, I suppose I am the reason you are feeling better.” She paused. “And what is your name if I might ask?”

The woman opened her mouth but shut it, frowning as she looked at something over Angela’s shoulder. “Wha..” Angela began, but after a quick glance back she saw everyone was staring at the poor girl. She sent a glare at them before turning back to the woman. “Why don't you and I go back to my office to talk. I had a few medical questions I wanted to ask you anyway.” 

“Sure,” she agreed easily. 

“Lena, why don't you go eat,” Angela suggested to the still hovering girl, laying a gentle hand on her arm. “Thank you again for looking over her for me.” She turned back to her patient. “This way,” she said, putting a hand on her back. 

* * *

* * *

A full barrage of questions fell upon her as soon as Dr. Ziegler and Harper had gotten out of sight. “Just hold on, loves,” she told them, grabbing some food and sitting down at their makeshift dinner table they had set up in the kitchen. Mei had cooked more food than the six of them could ever eat, but it all looked and smelled delicious. “Her name’s Harper Black,” Lena informed them around bites of food. “Mei, this is amazing,” she added. 

“What else did you find out?” Mei asked quietly. “And thank you, my mother taught me how to cook.” 

Lena shrugged. “Nothing really. She seemed nice though,” she said. She had reacted with a good sense of humor at her scarf being drooled on, taking it back with a small, bubbly laugh and a polite ‘thank you’. 

“Maybe she's in our system somewhere,” Winston said thoughtfully, climbing carefully from his tire swing to the floor and ambling over to his computer to check with Athena on the matter. 

Genji rocked back in his chair, his fingers drumming uneasily against his arm. He had seemed unnerved by the woman since she had arrived. “Did she say why she was handcuffed to a fence?” Genji asked suspiciously. 

“I didn't ask.” Lena shrugged again, looking over to where Winston was typing furiously on his computer. The click, clack of the keys over and over had become a comforting background noise as of late. 

“What did you ask?” He scrutinized her harshly, stopping his drumming and slating his chair back forward. 

“Genji,” Zenyatta chided gently from beside him. 

Suddenly, Athena was speaking to them, “Harper Black. A bounty hunter located in London under the name, ‘The Hunter’. Related files: Mary Sparkes and Dr. Eric Black.”

“Dr. Black?” Reinhardt’s head snapped up. “I know him.”

“And I've heard her name before. Sparkes? Genji wasn't there a Captain Sparkes around while we were training?”

Genji looked away from her. “I do not remember,” he answered quietly. 

“She died saving Dr. Black’s life in the field. They were married,” Reinhardt told them, frowning deeply. “I did not know they had a child.” 

* * *

* * *

“May I ask why we found you the way we did?” Dr. Ziegler looked pointedly at the handcuff that still dangled off one wrist. 

Harper shrugged, jangling the piece of metal experimentally as she considered what to tell her exactly. “It's...complicated,” she finally said. Though that wasn't entirely true she supposed. She had made a decision. A bad one. And had suffered for it. It was a simple as that really. The details only got in the way. 

Dr. Ziegler smiled reassuringly. “I have heard it all, I promise you.” 

There sure was a lot of promising going around this place, Harper thought. She supposed there was no harm in telling her though. “Well, I'm a bounty hunter,” Harper explained. “I, uh, well, I made a bad decision. I had been trying to catch these two guys for about a week now and while I was out last night I caught their trail. I thought ya know, why waste an opportunity like this, even though I didn't have any of my usual supplies to catch them.” 

She paused, sighing at herself as she reviewed her own stupid actions. “Go on,” Dr. Ziegler prompted her gently. 

“They got the jump on me,” Harper summarized her encounter with the criminals. “I suppose I should consider myself lucky they just handcuffed me to the fence and didn't kill me outright though, huh?”

“If you should consider yourself lucky for anything it should probably be for Lena finding you when she did, otherwise I fear it might've been too late you.” 

Lena had saved her life just as much as Dr. Ziegler had, Harper couldn't disagree. She owed them both her life. Harper nodded, “It was lucky.” She shook her head. “I would have died without your help…I just don't understand-” A knock at the door stopped her from finishing her sentence. She looked at Dr. Ziegler, though she looked just as puzzled by the sound. 

“One moment,” she said and got up to answer the door. Harper leaned forward, trying to see who was there, but the good doctor was blocking them from her line of sight. Whoever they were, they were only speaking in hushed whispers. 

“We cannot just-” Dr. Ziegler raised her voice momentarily then stopped giving Harper a nervous look before going back to her quiet conversation. 

After a moment Dr. Ziegler shook her head and shut the door. “Is there something wrong?” Harper asked when she had sat back down in front of her. 

“No. No, not at all. Please, continue. I believe you had a question you were going to ask me.”  
Harper shrugged a little. “Why did you help me? You had no real reason to, why did you do it?”

Dr. Ziegler tapped her pen rhythmically against her knee, taking a long moment before she answered. Harper waited patiently. “Because,” she finally answered, “it is what we do. What we have always done and will always try to do.” She paused, meeting Harper’s eyes now. “Would you be interested in helping us, Miss Black?”

“Helping who?”

“Us. Overwatch.”

**Author's Note:**

> [song that inspired the title](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=5&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjnxtCLge_UAhVIw1QKHfpbCzEQtwIIPzAE&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DvEHHh8IBhpY&usg=AFQjCNEk74M4v-gcn8FQhYf1xXVAR2L3Pw)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Any and all comments are appreciated, thanks! <3


End file.
